" Simon laughs when I audibly exhale. “Relieved she’s not here yet?”

I roll my suitcase into one of the barren bedrooms and then plunk down on the rock-hard, hideous orange sofa in the lounge. Simon takes a swivel chair from my room and slides it in front of me, where he then plants himself. “Why are you so worried?”

I cross my arms and look around the concrete room. “I’m not worried at all. She’s probably very nice. I’m sure we’ll become soul mates, and she’ll braid my hair, and we’ll have pillow fights while scantily clad and fall into a deep lesbian love affair.” I squint my eyes at a cobweb and assume there are spider eggs preparing to hatch and invade the room.

“Allison?” Simon waits until I look at him. “You can’t do that. You can’t become a lesbian.”

“Why not?”

“Because then everyone will say that your adoptive gay father magically made you gay, and it’ll be a big thing, and we’ll have to hear about nature versus nurture, and it’ll be soooooo boring.”

“You have a point.” I wait for spider eggs to fall from the sky. “Then I’ll go with assuming she’s just a really sweet, normal person with whom I do not want to engage in sexual relations.”

“Better,” he concedes. “I’m sure she’ll be nice. This kind of strong liberal arts college attracts quality students. There’re good people here.” He’s trying to reassure me, but it’s not working.

“Totally,” I say. My fingers run across the nubby burned-orange fabric covering the couch, which is clearly composed of rock slabs. “Simon?”

“Yes, Allison?”

I sigh and take a few breaths while I play with the hideous couch threads. “She probably has horns.”

He shrugged. “I think that’s unlikely.” Simon pauses. “Although . . .”

“Although what?” I ask with horror.

There’s a long silence that makes me nervous. Finally, he says very slowly, “She might have one horn.”

I jerk my head and stare at him.

Simon claps his hands together and tries to coax a smile out of me. “Like a unicorn! Ohmigod! Your roommate might be a unicorn!”

“Or a rhinoceros,” I point out. “A beastly, murderous rhino.”

“There is that,” he concedes.

I sigh. “In good news, if I ever need a back scratcher, I have this entire couch.” I slump back against the rough fabric and hold out my hands before he can protest. “I know. I’m a beacon of positivity.”

“That’s not news to me. "

― Jessica Park , 180 Seconds